


Stranglehold

by BalefireFlatlands



Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2019-09-18 13:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16995474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: The Outcrier doesn't take kindly to people touching his things.





	Stranglehold

Lectricy recoiled from the racer who had tried to caress the side of his face, retreating behind the Outcrier and sending the man a glare. The Outcrier curled his lip but didn’t say anything. The first one was free, and sometimes his generator boy allowed the people the Outcrier dealt with to touch him, but usually not, and a second attempt would get the racer backhanded right off the platform where they were conducting business. His Lectricy Boy was for show, for other people to look at and be jealous, not for any of them to ever be able to obtain.

The racer didn’t take it well at all, stalking a few steps closer and raising an arm to strike the cowering generator boy. Immediately the Outcrier’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, face contorting into a scornful frown, voice harsh, “Don’t even think about it.” Tossing his hand to the side, he stood firm, every line of his body itching for a fight. It had been a while since he’d beat the crap out of anyone, racers were getting all meek and terrified. The ones with all the bravado were dying off quicker than their egos could be replaced.

Recognizing that he didn’t want any part of this, Lectricy backed up even further, putting the Outcrier’s desk between him and them. There was a moment of tense waiting, where hope still remained that things might end amicably, shattered in an instant by the racer hauling off and punching the Outcrier full in the face.

The Outcrier staggered backwards, chuckling as he put his fingers to his cheek, feeling the blood there from his split skin. Rubbing it between his fingertips he laughed loudly, “I hoped you were that stupid. I really did.” Reeling back he socked the guy in the stomach, waiting as he predictably doubled over and uppercutting his fist into the racer’s jaw with a sickening clicking sound.

He would have stopped at that, wry grin on his face as he watched the racer spit out blood and a chunk of his tongue he’d bitten off. If the man turned to leave he would have let him go with nothing more than a few jeers. But instead the racer saw an opportunity and took it, leaping across the desk and tackling Lectricy into a wall. The startled generator boy made a couple of surprised noises, gave a flailing attempt at a struggle, but was ultimately overpowered and put in a chokehold.

The Outcrier spread his arms to the side, snorting, “Really?” What was visible of his face looked far less than pleased.

Lectricy made a growling noise and elbowed the racer right in the groin, he could be a feisty little thing since he’d sobered up. Didn’t do him much good other than getting the arm around his throat tightened til his was gasping and clawing at the other mans’ hand as he strangled.

This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to use his generator boy against him. Usually they just tugged him around by the generator, but Lectricy wasn’t wearing it right now; the Outcrier giving his boy some relief from carrying the heavy contraption around had apparently backfired.

Walking away and acting like he didn’t care would have probably confused the racer enough to let the kid go, but it wasn’t in the Outcrier’s nature to abandon a fight. He had a gun hidden under his desk, but he didn’t trust his aim enough to not hit Lectricy. Long ago he might have done that anyway and considered the generator boy collateral damage, but not now.

Over the years the Outcrier had gotten extremely good at keeping his face passive so no one could tell what he was looking at behind the goggles. That mask wasn’t only for aesthetics, it was a calculated advantage to hide any expressions he didn’t want people to see. So although he was grimly staring at the racer with his lips pressed into a hard line, his eyes were darting around to try and find a way to get out of this situation with minimal injury to Lectricy.

He had a few options, trying to knock the racer over the railing, tripping him up with the cords that were littering the walkway, maybe even chucking a piece of rebar at his head. But then the racer turned his attention to Lectricy spinning him around to look at him and dropping a hand to fondle him through his pants.

Oh hell no.

The Outcrier launched himself across the platform, slamming his shoulder into the man’s chest and narrowly avoiding sending Lectricy sprawling in the process. Knocking the racer over he scrambled onto his chest, drawing back and crashing his fist into the racer’s face at full strength, causing his head to smash back into the metal catwalk with a loud clang.

There wasn’t much of a struggle after that and he was dead after the third or fourth punch, the back of his skull cracking under the concussive blows of the Outcrier’s attack pummeling him into the platform. The Outcrier kept punching him though, blood splattering and staining his vest, spraying across his goggles and face, his fist coming away with bits of brain matter and skin.

By the time he stopped hitting him there wasn’t much of a face left to identify the guy by. Panting the Outcrier finally got up, sending a savage kick to the corpses side and knocking him off the platform to fall to the ground below. Let the residents of Gastown deal with it. Eat him or whatever it was they did with the people he killed.

Lectricy was staring at him in horror, cowering behind the desk, eyes never leaving the blood splattered all over the platform. The Outcrier frowned, having Lectricy be afraid of him never felt good, submissive and respectful yes, but not afraid. Though honestly it was the most emotion he’d shown in a while so that was something at least. The generator boy had been in a drugged out haze most of the time, and now sober he wasn’t quite all there, operating in his own little world that sometimes included the Outcrier but even then seemed to be far removed from reality.

A few excited yells from below meant the local Gastown smellies were rejoicing in their good fortune at a body to loot and the Outcrier decided it was a good time to make himself scarce before people started coming up the stairs to ask him stupid questions. He gestured to the door to his private living quarters, saying simply, “Come on.” He wasn’t going to talk about this in public or look over what had been done to Lectricy where others could see.

As soon as they were alone he reached out and tilted Lectricy’s chin up so he could see the damage to his neck, tugging that white fabric mask off over his head. He hadn’t supplied fume to the little junkie for months, but the mask was his only possession and he still wore it, made his sultry looks that much more alluring. The Outcrier ran his hands down along his neck, it was hard to tell if he was bruised under the staining across his neck and chest, but he seemed to be fine.

Under the inspection Lectricy had retreated back into himself, acting like property instead of a person, just as he’d been trained. The Outcrier sighed and let him go, watching him. He’d stand there all day without moving if the Outcrier didn’t tell him to do something, there was a good chance that if he left him long enough he’d stand there til he passed out. He’d already found out the hard way that Lectricy wouldn’t eat unless he was given permission to do so. Not that he left him alone that often and when he did the kid mostly slept.

A life of huffing fume and being emotionally and physically abused had completely destroyed Lectricy’s personality and sense of self. He had moments, short and very rare, where he seemed normal, smiled or spoke a few sentences, but it was so infrequent the Outcrier sometimes forgot what his voice even sounded like.

It wasn’t entirely the Outcrier’s fault, Lectricy had been submissive as all hell when he’d bought him. That had definitely been a perk at first, but he was older now. And while no one would call the Outcrier wise, he’d seen some shit in his time and his outlook on life and his needs had changed. He still wanted Lectricy to be submissive, he just also wanted him to be .. well, him. Whoever that was. Before it had been beaten out of him.

Stepping away he pulled his vest off, hanging it up and grimacing at the blood coating his precious lighties. He’d have to have one of his peons deal with that later, because he sure wasn’t going lower himself to doing laundry. As expected Lectricy was still standing in the same place, staring off into space and the Outcrier shook his head as he pulled his goggles off, cleaning the lenses on his splattered shirt. He stripped down, having the rare luxury of owning multiple sets of clothing to change into at a whim. Rolling his neck from side to side he stood shirtless before the pipe his clothes were draped over, pulling one down at random.

So he was startled when Lectricy snuggled into him from behind, black arms wrapping around his middle to join in front of the Outcrier’s stomach. Signs of affection like this were still new to the Outcrier, still uncomfortable, but he allowed them. Most of them. More than he had in the past anyway. Occasionally he’d even return them. It was a slow process, he was getting better, caring about someone’s emotional well being was something he’d never had to worry about before.

Chuckling he tossed the shirt back over the pipe, twisting around in Lectricy’s arms to face him. Lectricy’s eyes were roving all over him, taking in the thick corded muscle of the Outcrier’s torso, before he leaned in to to drag his tongue over the abraded scar covering the older man’s chest; he’d been in plenty of car crashes and fights while bullshitting his way to the top.

The skin there was puckered and damaged enough to not have feeling anymore so Lectricy’s attentions weren’t doing much, but the Outcrier let him, reaching up to stroke the back of his neck encouraging him to continue, preferably moving to areas below the waist. Emboldened, Lectricy put his palms flat against the Outcrier’s chest tentatively pushing him towards the bed.

“You can do better than that,” the Outcrier scoffed, grabbing Lectricy’s hands and setting them back into place.

Lectricy looked unsure, but he gave him a good shove, sending the Outcrier backpedaling and dropping down onto the bed. The ex-fumehead was a lot stronger than he appeared. Grinning, an expression the Outcrier had seen maybe a handful of times, Lectricy crawled over him, working his pants off while nibbling down his stomach.

Relinquishing control to Lectricy for the first time ever he let himself be stripped. Why hadn’t he done this sooner? He was getting what he would have ordered the kid to do anyway, with the added benefit of an enthusiastic generator boy. Closing his eyes he murmured some encouraging words as Lectricy engulfed him with a mouth that was always so unbelievably warm.

Stroking his shorn scalp he let Lectricy work him for a while before pulling him off and up against his chest. Wordlessly he gestured to Lectricy’s pants, dragged his fingers across the oversized shirt he was wearing. He didn’t even need to speak to have Lectricy obediently stripping himself down and moving to straddle him.

“Good boy.” The Outcrier sat up, fingers digging into Lectricy’s thighs to keep him from impaling himself dry. He was so well trained that he would barely wince as pain shot through his whole body. But the Outcrier wasn’t interested in hurting his boy, he’d done that enough already. Lube was rare, but the Outcrier was rich enough to have a lifetime supply if he wanted it, the only reason he didn’t use it often was because he was lazy and didn’t care if Lectricy was enjoying it or not. Or hadn’t anyway.

But the way Lectricy’s eyes lit up when he was praised, the shy smile that he had when he saw Outcrier reach for the lube, ensured that the Outcrier was going to treat him right. At least for now. The man was unbelievably selfish, he wouldn’t do anything without getting some sort of personal gain, and while Lectricy being happy didn’t really net him anything, it did make the kid eager to please and a lot more into it when they fucked. Now that he wasn’t practically in a coma from huffing, the Outcrier was finding that he much preferred an active partner in bed rather than one who laid there like a corpse and just took it.

Unfortunately Lectricy had years of training to unlearn, most of which came at the Outcrier’s hands. His fingers dug into the Outcrier’s thighs as he was fingered, eyes closing and breath huffing out softly as he tried to remain still. The Outcrier abruptly sat up straighter, wrapping his free hand around Lectricy and pulling him flush against his chest while he continued to piston his fingers in and out, curling them every so often and causing his generator boy to squirm and make soft moaning sounds.

Lectricy gasped and dug his hands into the Outcrier’s chest as the man pulled his fingers free and drove into him. Groaning he sunk deeply onto his cock, burying his face in the Outcrier’s neck and trying to bring his knees up to wrap his legs around him. There was only a brief pause as the Outcrier considered if he wanted to allow his boy to wrap him all up in his skinny limbs, and then he was sliding his hands along his thighs, guiding his legs around him.

Well that was a new feeling. Lectricy was so tightly wrapped around him that every movement of the Outcrier was echoed right through the small body clinging to him. Between Lectricy and the smog of Gastown the heat was practically sweltering and their stomachs and thighs slickly slid against each other as the Outcrier rocked deeply into him, barely pulling out with every thrust.

It was almost romantic. Lectricy’s hot breath on his neck interspersed with sloppy rough kisses against his colorbone was encouraging the Outcrier to not be as rough as he normally was. He could actually tell what the kid liked based on how he dug his fingers into his back, clawing at him and moaning or stiffening and catching his breath.

Had he always done that?

If he had the Outcrier had never noticed, or hadn’t cared, probably because he never allowed Lectricy to touch him. He’d missed out on years of learning the junkie’s quirks, figuring out what he disliked, what turned him on; all because the Outcrier was completely focused on his own needs. That hadn’t really changed, he was still the most important thing in the world to himself, but maybe he could spare a fraction of a thought for the man who was effectively his lover.

Lectricy collapsed against him, gently biting the Outcrier’s neck as he slumped into a boneless mush. He contentedly hugged the Outcrier, refusing to let him go as the Outcrier tried to get up. Grunting he fell backwards onto the bed with Lectricy still attached to him like a leech.

“Alright. That’s enough. I’m getting up now.”

“No,” Lectricy whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the background noise of the refinery.

The Outcrier froze, dumbfounded. “What?” No one had told him no for decades. Especially not a slave he’d bought.

“Want to stay here.” Lectricy squirmed against him happily not letting go.

Moving to shove him off and get up anyway, the Outcrier hesitated, listening to the sounds outside his door. There was apparently a fight going on between the looters and it sounded like it was getting ugly. Probably best to stay behind the thick iron door that separated his room from the rest of Gastown. Which meant staying where he was with a scrawny little junkie keeping him in a stranglehold.

Leaning his head back he stared up at the ceiling as Lectricy wriggled and seemed to be trying to meld their skin together. Well, he’d wanted to have an enthusiastic bedmate, this was the result and he’d just have to deal with it.

Sighing he wrapped an arm around Lectricy, trying to get him to stop writhing around. It was also way too hot to have someone squashed up against him, but, against his better judgement, he let him stay. And he himself remained where he was, watching as Lectricy drifted off to sleep, arms still splayed around the Outcrier.

He was setting a terrible precedent for the future. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.


End file.
